Forgetting that the water is blue
by BrightLiar
Summary: The water is blue. The grass is green. Our mind holds nothing but memories. Unforgettable memories.


A/N: Just a one shot. I know it takes a while to get into it guys, you know, with me getting carried away at the start! Anyway, it was a bit of a spontaneous thing – like the rest of my fics! I was going to write fluff, but me being me, I decided not to. I can't write it! It turns out to be a big fat fail! Maybe one day I will eh? I am putting a warning out there to you though! Character DEATH. I know it seems extreme and all that, but it is horrible when people do push you out and let's face it, you feel alone. So anyway, here it is!

**Forgetting that the water is blue and the grass is green.**

_The water is blue. The grass is green. Our mind holds nothing but memories. Unforgettable memories._

The water is blue. The grass is green. I bet you never forgot that did you? You can say that you had forgotten it, but you would lying. I mean it's grounded in our minds. A memory. The good and the bad. Either way, they're always there.

To forget. It sounds easy doesn't it? I mean it's just a word. Just a six letter word. You'd think it sounds easy. Forgetting is simple. Want the truth? It's nothing but easy. It's just a way of fighting another battle until you become emotionally unstable, and to diminish any bit of independence you once had. It thrives on any lasting remains of strength and replaces it with weakness. Yes, it is to be agreed that people grow stronger again, but we only look to the outside and not what's being shown on the inside. Ever wondered why people just say they're fine? Well, it's because they're dying on the inside and yet somehow manage to project a strength on the outside. We've all tried to forget, we say that we're over something, but secretly we're not. We lie to protect the calming of our minds, to pros-pone the falling of our tears, and to show strength beyond our hidden weaknesses.

Ever wondered why we cry best when we are on our own? Maybe, it's because we're frightened of revealing that we're only human. Maybe it's because the events hit us harder. It's an uncontrollable feeling. The rain. You feel it more when you have close contact. You can feel the crisp cool droplets fluttering onto your skin. When you feel the memory gliding it's way around you, you feel the pain. When your inside and you can hear it battering against the windows, you can sense the increase in volume. When your on your own, you hear voices. Names, whispers, places and people. They're memories. Memories hold the strengths of successfulness, but they also hold the weaknesses with failure. But as they say, the greatest strength is to let go. To forget.

By pushing Gillian away, Cal was never aware of the consequences that were on the horizon. He didn't dare think to what could happen. Wallowski was there, and well, he just wanted some fun. I mean he loved the ladies after all. Maybe, he was just unaware of the emotions Gillian was feeling by him having this sort of trait. Every now again dinner would be cancelled between them. She knew exactly why. Wallowski. She was the murderer in their relationship. She stood on all the toes.

She remembered. The times she laughed and the times she cried. It was flashing pictures before her eyes. The petty arguments, the flirtatious moments and something else. Something unidentifiable. It was a look that they shared. Deeper than a flirtatious smile and shallower than an illuminating glow of passion. It was different. She could of sworn that she had seen it before. Love? No, that seemed ridiculous to her. Yet, it didn't seem ridiculous to him. Afterall, he was the one battling between his head and heart. He loved her.

Swirling the crimson liquid in the glass, she sighed. Another night, alone. Completely on her own. One bottle of wine, and then maybe another. She would drink until the numbness of the alcohol would wash over her. In her mind the numbing was helping her forget. Nothing lasts forever. She drank for every person who felt this way. Sweeping the tears from her eyes, she cradled the glass in the fingertips. One tear fell. Just one. Feeling her water line flood, she brought the liquid to her lips and swallowed. Nothing but the harsh sounds of liquid being poured were used over and over.

He stood outside. Taking in any last breath of fresh-air, he was able to compose himself. To find the confidence from deep within him. Seeing that the rain was starting to fall he neared his car, to begin the journey to her house. He needed to tell her. He couldn't leave it any longer. It was killing him.

Brushing the slightly damp tears off her cheeks, she just sat there. It was as if her mind was working so rapidly that she couldn't focus. She felt unstable. Unsure of the next steps to take. The right paths, the wrong paths, it wasn't very clear. There were voices. Lots of voices, just surrounding her, telling her what decisions to make. The alcohol consumed by herself was controlling the way she thought. It made her think differently. It made her look at things with a different perspective. A dangerous perspective.

His car travelled faster than ever before. It was a rush of adrenaline which was causing him to act on things so fast. Telling her brought nervousness to his body. A flicker of hope flashed before his eyes, but deep down he was drowning in rejection. The harsh pelting of raindrops were fighting against his screen. Still, he persevered.

Reaching the bathroom she dug to the back of the shelf and pulled out a small plastic box. A medical box. Bandages, plasters and pills. The last word said everything. Her mind wasn't functioning. It was the emotions shadowing over her which made her act in such a way. The world was spinning in circles every second, faster than they should have been. Unscrewing the lid, she felt the pills drop one by one onto the palm of her hand. Huddling together she seen no danger. Well, she did, but her mind wasn't alarming her. It couldn't. Slipping her eyes shut she brought her hands to her mouth.

Cal was unaware of what he would be revealing. Something so precious to him would be taken. When he were to realise this, it would be the killing of him. No, letting go would be the killing of him. Forgetting Gillian Foster would be like forgetting the water is blue and the grass is green. It would be impossible.


End file.
